ex-strangers || a jeffmads fic

chapter twelve

madison.

Oh god. Oh god, oh no, oh fuck. James stared at the sleeping body next to him, the man's eyelids fluttering with some sort of dream as James stared at him. He had to get out of here. He couldn't stand seeing the stranger asking him who he was, being disappointed that James wasn't what he'd wanted.

Also, he felt sick.

Also also, he didn't want whatever happened last night to actually have happened; and if the man woke up while James was still there he would have to ask.

James slipped as slowly as possible from the bed before realizing that he was without clothing. "Shit, shit, shit." He threw on his clothes from last night and was pulling his sweater over his head when a bleary "G'morning," filled his head.

jefferson.

When it was a one night stand, and it was not at Thomas' house; he made a point of leaving before they woke up. At his own house, people usually left before he woke up. Sure, the occasional chick would beg to stay and he would pretend to fall back asleep, but otherwise things lasted normally like this.

This morning, James was still here, and Thomas did not mind. It seemed like James was still trying to get out of there though.

"Mm... where are you going in such a hurry?" Thomas hummed, sitting up drowsily. If the blanket fell any further than it already had, Thomas would've been completely naked, which alluded pretty well to the fact that the night before had gone extremely well.

James didn't reply. He was frozen, as if he was pretending he couldn't hear Thomas. Thomas shifted, waiting. Finally James spun around, the light in his eyes anxious. "I don't even know your name," he whined.

"Yeah, but that's what makes it fun," Thomas chided, tilting his head. "I know yours. Your friends were texting you nonstop last night, James."

James looked as though Thomas had just read a page from James' diary. He checked his phone. "They did. Why did you look?"

Thomas waved it off. "Are you—"

"I have to go."

Thomas frowned. "James, were you a virgin before last night?"

James hesitated, like he was malfunctioning, and then grabbed his stuff and left. Thomas watched him go, trying to stop himself from chasing James down.

Did he feel bad? A little. Maybe a lot. Thomas shouldn't feel bad, though. Why did he feel bad? Who gave him the right? He shouldn't care.

He slid from his bed and threw on a pair of jeans and a polo, staring at himself in the mirror for a second (or like, three minutes) while fluffing up his hair. Suddenly, his phone buzzed.

Unknown: [Thomas, it's Angelica. What is wrong with you?]

Thomas groaned. Not Angie. Not now.

macaroni man: [wym??]
Angie: [What did you do that for? James is crying to my sisters over the phone.]
macaroni man: [jesus christ,, what did i do???
Angie: [...]
Angie: [You're just as stupid as you used to be, huh?]

Thomas tossed his phone onto the bed. Fucking hell.